


You Snooze, You Lose

by white_cross_b



Category: Weiss Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-15
Updated: 2010-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_cross_b/pseuds/white_cross_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God, he wanted Aya. He'd hinted about his attraction once or twice, but Aya never bit, so Yohji had shrugged it off and sought company elsewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Snooze, You Lose

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://whymzycal.livejournal.com/profile)[**whymzycal**](http://whymzycal.livejournal.com/)  and [](http://bunnysquee.livejournal.com/profile)[**orlisbunny**](http://bunnysquee.livejournal.com/)  challenged me to write a 1,000 word fluff fic, since all I tend to write is angst. This is as fluffy as I could go, and made it in at just over 1,000 words.

Yohji grunted as he balanced the basket on his hip and stretched out his free hand to open the door to the basement laundry room. The hinges creaked as it opened – the humid air of summer always caused the door to swell and stick, making it difficult to move. Yohji pushed hard with the side of his body until it gave. The bare bulb flickered and spat overhead before flicking on, and his slippers slapped against his feet as he made his way over to the single washing machine. The lid was already open, a forgotten laundry basket in front, as if someone had abandoned their wash in a hurry. "You snooze, you lose," Yohji muttered to himself with a grin as he pushed his sunglasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. He was slightly hung over, and the sharp light from the naked bulb was way too bright.

He reached for the knob to turn the machine on, then peered down into the tub, noticing that it wasn't empty. Yohji bent down to grab a fistful of fabric and pulled out Aya's sweater. His orange sweater. _Wow, he actually takes it off once in a while,_ Yohji snarked to himself. Aya practically _lived_ in the damn thing when he worked in the shop, what with being sensitive to the cold, which couldn't be helped due to the many refrigerated units they needed to store the flowers. He was about to drop it into Aya's basket but stopped just short, feeling the knitted texture in his hands. It was soft. _Really_ soft. Yohji put it up to his cheek and rubbed. A quick look out the door and down the hall showed that no one was coming, so Yohji put it up to his nose and breathed in deeply. It _smelled_ good, too, like Aya: warm and musky. It must be what Aya smelled like, anyway, though Yohji had never been bold enough to get close and take a good whiff. He could smell Aya's cologne from time to time, lingering in the hallway in the morning when Aya was fresh from the shower, but this was different. This was intimate. This had been next to his skin.

Yohji remembered then that Manx had shown up last night with a mission. Nothing big, just one that required only one of them and not the entire team. Aya had been the first to volunteer, so this must have been what Aya had been interrupted in the middle of doing before he headed out. He would have been out late, Yohji thought, to not have been up early finishing what he had started the evening before. He'd be up soon and wanting his sweater, since it was like his second skin. Yohji shoved it quickly in with his own clothes, shouldered the basket, and hurried out, racing up the stairwell to his floor and locking the door behind him once he was inside his apartment.

He collapsed on his bed, kicking his slippers off and bringing the sweater up to his nose to breathe in the scent once again. Just thinking about how the soft yarn would rub softly against Aya's bare skin made Yohji hard, and his hand wandered down to his groin, squeezing a bit as his breath came out hot and heavy. _God,_ he wanted Aya. He'd hinted about his attraction once or twice, but Aya never bit, so Yohji had shrugged it off and sought company elsewhere. There were plenty of bodies to warm his bed, but Aya... he had never stopped thinking about him and what it would be like to fuck someone that intense.

_Would he give up control,_ Yohji wondered, _or would he fight me for it, before I pushed him down into the mattress, arms over his head as I settled between his legs?_ Aya's arms would be strong; he worked out with his sword every single day, but Yohji would be stronger. He had to be, to be able to lift dead weight with just his wire. He could definitely pin Aya down. Or he could drape himself over Aya's back, teeth seeking out the thick muscle of Aya's neck and shoulder as he fucked him from behind. …No, he'd rather be able to lean down and taste his lips, feel Aya's breath hot against his own neck, see Aya's face as he came. _Yeah, that's more like it,_ Yohji thought, his hand in his briefs now, stroking his dick firmly with his hand. It was hot and moist in his grip as he pumped, his other hand cradling the sweater against his face as he came with a muffled groan. He brought his hand up to his lips, his tongue flicking out to lap at his own come, wondering what Aya's would taste like as it slid over his tongue.

There was a sudden, sharp rap at the door. Yohji quickly wiped his hand on a discarded t-shirt and went to open it.

"I'm looking for..." Aya trailed off as he spied his sweater on Yohji's bed, rumpled in among the sheets. "What were you doing?" he asked, his brows knitted together in confusion.

Yohji shrugged sheepishly. He knew what he looked like: top button of his pants open, the zipper halfway down, his face flushed and damp. There was no getting out of it.

Aya marched right in and swiped the sweater off Yohji's bed. "Pervert," he said, brandishing it in front of Yohji's face.

"Yeah, well..." Yohji shrugged again. "Since I couldn't have the real thing, that was the next best thing," he drawled with a grin.

"Tch," Aya said disgustedly, turning his back on Yohji and heading for the door. But once there, he paused and turned around. "You never asked," he said, and Yohji could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"Maybe you never heard me," Yohji replied.

Aya snorted. "Do I even _need_ to tell you that from now on my laundry is off limits?"

Yohji said nothing; he just smiled.

"Pervert." Aya snorted again, this time walking out the door and closing it behind him, but not before Yohji saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. Yohji flopped back down on his bed and grinned up at the ceiling. If he was reading the signs right, he may not be able to have his way with Aya's laundry anymore, but he just might be able to get up close and personal with the man himself.

That was a trade he was willing to make.

  



End file.
